


Summer Breeze

by Melo_Mapo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comeplay, Daydreaming, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, POV Stiles, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melo_Mapo/pseuds/Melo_Mapo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It blows scattered,</p>
<p>cool but not cold,</p>
<p>the way a sea summer breeze blows,</p>
<p>gentle,</p>
<p>refreshed by the Ocean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Breeze

Beacon Hills

August 21st

 

Standing outside the car in my summer uniform, I'm getting a bit cold, but the inside still smells like puke. Drunkards are a pain in the ass to arrest yesterday. I may not have Scott's acute wolfy nose, but it's bad enough that I'll risk the chill. It is windy on the road today, the kind of wind you only get when there are no buildings cutting it. 

It plays in staccato, pausing, rising again, changing directions.

 

It blows scattered,

cool but not cold,

the way a sea summer breeze blows,

gentle,

refreshed by the Ocean.

 

            I close my eyes and I can see it. The water is a deep hue of blue, the sun's sparkles teal on its top. The breeze is a caress, the waves barely a shiver on the Ocean's skin. Faraway the azure melts with the sea and the horizon is a faint line, a faded scar that can only be seen when squinting. The blond sand curves in a creek where a sailing boat, sheltered, bobs gently, pulling now on then on its anchor. Did you know my Mom used to take me sailing? 

            There's a house on the hill, in between the trees, overlooking the water, the beach, the boat. It's a simple wooden structure with a porch running all around it, like a miniature plantation house. The living-room bay-windows open on the beach side and the zephyr sneaks in, ruffling the pages of a book left on the low table in front of the sofa. The sun barely passed its zenith and the tiny clouds puffing up in the sky do nothing to lower its blazing heat.

            Everything seems to be standing still, blocked on repeat: the breeze, the sun, the repetitive hum of the breakers rolling on the sand.

            There's a nap-time quality to the atmosphere.

 

            I put down my empty glass of water on the counter and tear my stare away from the view. I'm wearing the bare minimum: a tank-top and boxers. I walk in the living-room from the open kitchen, and past the sofa. You are slumped on it, one arm falling over the edge and resting on the floor. You fell asleep in your swim shorts, but they had been dry by then. I sit on the arm of the couch, near your head and contemplate you. Your dark hair is mused, your jaw strong as ever and you are peaceful, beautiful, something I want to hold and kiss, protect and care for. Your are pack, and much more than that. 

            You move slightly and your mouth falls open as you start breathing through it. Even in your sleep your eyebrows are kind of angry. Anyone else would think you look silly but I merely find you endearing. I start petting your hair reflexively as I imagine several scenarios to wake you up. I settle on a kiss, in the good old Sleeping Beauty fashion, but before I can act it out you nudge at my hand with your head, not fully awake but not asleep anymore. I let my hand slide lower to your nape and I scratch there until your eyes flutter open and you stretch you neck to provide me with better access. Your gaze focuses on me and a smile blooms on your face. I bend awkwardly for an upside down kiss that has my nose bumping on your chin. I start to pull back but your hands reach for my head and I comply and kiss you again. I feel you smile against my lips as you tug until I fall over. We flail in a confused pile of limbs for a while, laughter making acrobatics harder, until my legs are tangled with yours and our bodies clutched in a tight cuddle. After a few tranquil kisses I settle my head on the crook of your shoulder. You sneak your hands under my tank top and spread your hands on my lower back. You trace the moles I know are there, drawing constellations on my skin. I'm comfy, stuck between the couch's back and your body. I'm lying on my side, half sprawled on you and your hands are warm, a perfect contrast to the cool cat's paw running through the house. Outside, a cricket starts screeching and I find myself ready to fall asleep.

You seem to have other plans however and your hands start roaming on my back, massaging my shoulders, caressing my shoulder blades, tracing my spine. I kiss your neck then raise my head just enough to reach your neck, that I pepper with kisses. You whine low in your throat and turn your head, exposing it more fully. I brush over your side with my free hand, the other one still a pillow under my head. You squirm a little, ticklish, but I increase the pressure and kiss you until your skin and mood warm up to my contact. Your hands are playing with the hem of my boxers now, and after a minute of teasing I decide to nibble at your earlobe. It's all the encouragement you needed to finally slip your hands under the fabric and meet my stiffening cock there. A sound escapes me, half a hum half a moan, and I feel you tense upon hearing it. I drag my lips along your jaw in a series of light kisses until I reach your mouth. You part your lips and lean your head forward to deepen the kiss. Our tongues dance as I shift my position to straddle you.

            I break the kiss to look at you, hair ruffled, cheeks flushed, breath shortened. I'll never get enough of such a view. I slide on top of you, feel your hardened length rub on mine through the thin barrier of our underwear. You prop yourself on your elbows to kiss me again and the movement creates more delicious friction. My desire now burns bright and the few clothes still keeping our bodies apart seem too much. You must be thinking the same because your pull on my tank-top with one hand. I shrug it off and our underwear quickly follows in a mess of arms and legs bumping. We laugh a little but as soon as we settle back in the same position, the full contact of our bodies makes us serious again. You wrap your large hand around our dicks and I move my hips back and forth, fucking in the circle of your fingers, sending sparks of pleasure running in our bodies. You are making soft little sounds in between ragged intakes of air and I can't help but marvel at how lucky I am. Your other hand wanders on everything you can reach, brushing my back, my butt, my belly, my chest. You let go of our dicks and I stop moving, indignant, ready to protest, but already you are taking my cock in your hand again, tightening the circle, and you start moving it up and down my length. 

            I suck on my fingers to wet them before joining on the action, getting hold of your cock, beginning to stroke it. I linger on the head, tracing its edge and start with a few loose and arrhythmic tugs before squeezing just tight enough to make you moan. You quicken your rhythm on my sex while my other hands goes south too to massage your balls. I'm rewarded with groans and breathless I am trying to stay focused but my own moans rejoin yours when I start feeling my orgasm getting close. I wish I could hold it off just a while longer, but I'm too far gone already. I lean to kiss you, you reflexively tightened your grip, and I loose it, able only to cling to you as I come on your chest, one hand flying to your shoulder to ground me while the other's strokes on your sex turn a little bit frantic.

            I bury my face in your neck, coaxing you, talking now after having been so quiet, my fist pumping in my need for you to come too, and I know your are close, you don't care anymore about letting tiny sounds gasp out of you and your eyes are bright and your teeth a tad sharp and soon enough you reach completion and I try to catch in my hand as much of your sperm as I can, remembering last minute that the couch would probably stain.

            You open your eyes, the pupil still widely blown, the iris at the edge faintly luminescent and there's a suspended second where you take in the view and I stand still, hand covered in come, our eyes locked. Without breaking the stare, I grin and start licking my fingers. You flush even more and I didn't know it was possible. I can't really tell what you're thinking but you look at me for the whole time it takes me to clean up. The taste of it is mostly bland, if a bit salty, but I don't mind it. Especially not when I lean down to kiss you and you greedily lick in my mouth, chest rumbling with a sound that is more wolf than men. 

            You slide down the couch to lay down again, pulling me on top of you like the cuddling blanket I am. We kiss and snuggle, the breeze fresh as it dries our sweaty bodies. Outside, the cricket is still chirping, the waves still crashing on the beach and…

 

\- Stiles? 

 

            It's Dad's voice over the radio, asking if I can stop to get both of us food on my way back to the Station when my speeding ticket shift is done. I shiver, but I'm not cold anymore.

 

                                                Far from there.


End file.
